


Lucius Karen Malfoy

by Art3misiA



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Crack Fic, Drama queen alert, Gen, Hair flipping, Karens, Lucius is so dramatic, flouncing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27261970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misiA/pseuds/Art3misiA
Summary: In which Lucius has a very bad day where nothing goes right and everyone is horribly cruel to him and he gets called Karen a lot.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 31





	Lucius Karen Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TriDogMom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDogMom/gifts).



> This whole thing is silly and ridiculous (and hopefully hilarious).
> 
> All blame for it lies squarely at the feet of TriDogMom, whose aesthetic (attached) prompted me to ask if anyone had written a fic to match. She suggested I write a story about Lucius Karening about. This is the result.
> 
> It's set in the year 2020, while Scorpius is at Hogwarts.
> 
> It's unbeta'd, so please forgive any errors I've missed in my self-editing.

Lucius flounced through Diagon Alley, frowning at the other early shoppers. There weren’t many, but at this time of the morning, they were for the most part disheveled and looked only half-awake. He, on the other hand, had been awake since six am and made sure to be completely put together and presentable before leaving the Manor. 

Didn’t they have any pride in their appearances or reputation?  _ Honestly.  _ He was of the firm belief that a dedicated dress code should be applied to the Wizarding shopping district, and that visits should be arranged in time blocks according to status and financial position. That way, people like him would not have to be subjected to the ungodly sight of people like—he sniffed in disapproval as he spied a flash of messy red hair—those  _ dreadful  _ (not to mention  _ poor)  _ Weasleys.

Once, he’d even attempted to push the Shopkeepers’ Association to agree to such a set of requirements, but to his enormous chagrin, they had refused.  _ “It’ll alienate our customers and cause unnecessary friction,”  _ they’d said. 

Lucius, in response, had demanded to speak to whomever they reported to, and was duly given the name of some prissy little man who worked at the Ministry, overseeing the various businesses owned by and catering to the residents of Magical Britain.

However, this man, too, told Lucius there was nothing that could be done. “I’m sorry, Mr Malfoy, but there is nothing in any of the bylaws that forbids shoppers from dressing casually, or that would allow us to schedule shopping times according to status and financial position. As long as no one is doing anything illegal, they may shop whenever and in as casual a state of attire as they choose.”

Lucius, of course, declared that he would never shop in Diagon Alley again and that, additionally, he would be sure to tell all his friends not to give their patronage to any of the shops there. He even wrote a strongly worded letter of complaint to the  _ Daily Prophet,  _ but the useless owl must have gotten lost as his missive had never been printed.

However, he soon realised that there was nowhere else in Wizarding Britain that offered as extensive an array of shops and services in one place as the popular shopping hub, and after holding out for several weeks, he was forced to return. He had been prepared to let loose with sharp barbed words and frightening glares to anyone who dared say anything to him, but nobody said a thing. Despite their silence, though, he just  _ knew  _ they were mocking him. Their wide smiles, cheerful greetings, and the mirth dancing in their eyes told him they were all laughing at him behind his back for having been forced to come slinking back like a dog with its tail between its legs.

That particular saga had occurred several months ago, and given how simple most of the Wizarding world was, he trusted his previous humiliation had largely been forgotten. That was good, because this morning he had a great deal of important errands to run and he was  _ not  _ in the mood for problems. He expected everyone to be organised and at their best, and Salazar help them if they weren’t.

The first stop of the morning was Flourish and Blotts, where he was expecting his order to be ready for him. Lucius strode up the steps and tried the door, but to his annoyance, it was locked. Reaching into the pocket of his waistcoat to consult his pocket watch, he huffed in irritation. It was eight fifty-nine, for Merlin’s sake! The sign might say the shop opened at nine am, but shutting him out when he was only one minute early was simply not good enough.

Finally, after an age, the old proprietor - Lucius could never remember which one was which, they both looked the same to him - shuffled over to the door and unlocked it, granting him access.

“It’s about time,” he said, letting his irritation show. “I have a million things to do today and can’t afford to be kept waiting.”

“My apologies, Mr Malfoy. These old bones don’t move as fast as—” 

“Whatever.” He flicked his long blond hair and pushed past the old man, strode over to the counter and waited impatiently to be served. The codger took his sweet time to arrive and Lucius was certain it was deliberate.

“Now, Mr Malfoy - how may I be of assistance this morning?”

“I’m here to pick up my order.”

“Yes, I see - and what did you order?”

He bristled. “ _ You  _ should know - I ordered it in person!”

The old man reached underneath the counter and withdrew a ledger. “I don’t recall receiving an order from you recently - perhaps you made the arrangement with Mr Blotts? If you would be so kind as to describe the items you requested—”

“New quills. White ones. With the tips dyed in green and gold.”

The old man - it must be Flourish, since he had mentioned Blotts - was flipping through pages, running a gnarled finger down the entries as he did so. After several moments, he looked up. “Forgive me - when did you place the order?”

Huffing impatiently and flipping his hair over his shoulder again, Lucius told him, causing the older man to raise an eyebrow.

“Mr Malfoy, you said you ordered these quills just yesterday.”

“I am  _ aware  _ of that. Surely it doesn’t take more than a day to fill a simple stationery order.”

“You just told me you ordered the items at five minutes to five.”

“And?” he asked, drawing himself up imperiously. The  _ cheek  _ of this man!

“We close at five pm. The previous day’s late orders haven’t even been sent out yet. We send those with the morning post at nine thirty.” The proprietor looked at him as if he were being...unreasonable! _He,_ Lucius Malfoy! The _audacity!_ This was unacceptable.

“I shall be reporting this to the Shopkeepers’ Association! Good day to you, sir.” With a final hair-toss, Lucius flounced away from the scene of the affront.

“Bloody Karen,” Flourish muttered.  
  


* * *

  
The next stop was to Twilfit and Tattings. Lucius needed new robes for an upcoming Gala and intended to order them this morning. He pushed open the door and the bell overhead tinkled softly to announce his arrival.

Mrs Twilfit approached him, smiling deferentially. “Mr Malfoy! What a pleasure to see you again! How may I help you this morning?”

“You can start by getting me a cup of herbal tea,” he sniffed. “I’ve just been insulted by that beastly shop owner at Flourish and Blotts and need something to rejuvenate me.”

“Of course, Mr Malfoy, right away. Please take a seat and I’ll bring your refreshment.”

With a curt nod, Lucius made his way over to the comfortable sofa provided for patrons and lowered himself into it, taking care not to wrinkle his clothes. Reaching into his Wizard’s Sleeve — it was  _ not  _ a handbag, thank you very much! It was a small, fashionable carry-bag for wizards—he withdrew a small compact and checked his hair. With a delicate sweep of his fingers, he smoothed his fringe back into place.

“Here you go, Mr Malfoy. Freshly brewed.” Mrs Twilfit presented him with a cup and saucer, which he took without a word. Lifting the cup delicately to his lips, Lucius took a small, polite sip. It was very mediocre, but he supposed it would have to do for now. 

“May I suggest you switch brands, Mrs Twilfit,” he said after placing the cup on the small table in front of the sofa. “Something  _ organic.  _ Some teas are full of chemicals, you know.”

Mrs Twilfit looked at him oddly. “I didn’t know that, Mr Malfoy. I’ll be sure to look into it.”

“See that you do. Now, I have the big Ministry Gala to attend on Saturday and will require new robes for the occasion.”

“Of course, Mr Malfoy. If you’ll come this way, I can show you our newest acquisitions. There are some very fine—”

“—No. I will  _ not  _ buy something off the rack for this event.” Lucius shuddered at the very thought. What if he chose something pre-made and someone else showed up in the same robes? It would be  _ unthinkable.  _ “I will require new robes to be tailored according to my instruction and design.”

Mrs Twilfit’s face fell. “Mr Malfoy, we really do need more notice for these sorts of requests. You  _ know  _ this. The Gala is only a week away, and we already have a number of orders, we wouldn’t possibly have ti—”

“You need to  _ make  _ time!” Lucius said, rising to his feet. “I don’t care what you do; hire extra people, work through the night! But I need jade green robes with silver trim and this design—” he pulled the sketch from his Wizard’s Sleeve and handed it to the flustered shopkeeper, “—in time for the event!” 

“But—”

“If you don’t have them ready by Friday afternoon, I shall be complaining to the Shopkeepers’ Association! Flourish is already on my list. Be sure you don’t end up joining him.” Lucius fixed the woman with another of his steely glares, flipped his hair, and flounced from the shop, intent on his next destination.

* * *

Lucius went home first. There was no way in Merlin’s name he would be caught using the commoner’s entrance to the Ministry. Someone might  _ see  _ him. He entered his study, intent on activating his Floo, then stopped, considering.

Removing his pocket watch, he checked the time. It was only just after ten am, and he shouldn’t, but he’d had a stressful morning. He needed a  _ proper  _ pick-me-up, especially since the ‘herbal’ tea he’d had to force down his throat at Twilfit and Tattings had been so ghastly.

Moving over to the small fridge beside his desk, Lucius removed a bottle of white wine - a Chablis of a very good vintage. Summoning a glass, he magically removed the cork and poured himself a generous helping before taking a large sip. The tart flavours washed over his tongue and he hummed in satisfaction.

All too soon, he had drained the glass. He examined the bottle, debating whether to have one more sneaky drink, then put it away with some regret. He hadn’t eaten much this morning, and didn’t think it would be wise to Floo after two glasses of wine. Lucius stood up, straightened his robes, and made sure his Wizard’s Sleeve was still attached. Satisfied, he gathered up the folder he needed, picked up a handful of powder, and threw it into the fire in his study, calling out,  _ “The Ministry atrium!”  _

When he arrived, the atrium was bustling with witches and wizards going about their business. Glancing over at the general enquiries desk, he  _ tsked  _ in irritation to see that the lines were long. Flipping his hair over his shoulder, he reluctantly joined the line that looked the shortest, making a big show of sighing and constantly looking at his pocket watch. How dare these cretins take so long! His issue was of  _ utmost  _ importance, unlike their trivial problems and complaints.

Unfortunately for Lucius, the witch in front of him took twice as long as the other three people before her combined. He felt himself getting more and more irritated as he watched the other, longer, lines move up with more efficiency than his. Tsking, sighing, and tapping his foot loudly was  _ not  _ getting the point across, and it vexed him greatly. He could feel his nerves fraying. 

Finally, he said loudly, to no one in particular,  _ “Some  _ of us have a lot of things to do today, and it is just  _ so frustrating  _ when others monopolise the inquiries desk!”

The witch in front of him turned around and fixed him with a dirty look. “Wait your turn like everyone else, you ponce,” she said rudely.

Lucius gasped, grabbing at the delicate string of pearls adorning the collar of his shirt. This was simply  _ outrageous! _ “Lady, do you know who I am?” 

“Course I do,” she snorted. “And I don’t give a shit.” without another word, the witch turned back to the counter, resuming her protracted discussion with the wizard behind the counter.

Finally,  _ finally,  _ the awful woman in front of him concluded her business. She picked up her papers and pushed past him with a sniff. “Fucking Karen,” she muttered.

Lucius approached the counter with a frown and gave his hair an authoritative flick. “It’s about time,” he said, before the wizard serving him even had a chance to speak. “I need you to do something about my peacocks.”

The man before him nodded slowly, furrowing his brow. “I see… I’m afraid I’m going to need more information, sir.”

More information? For Merlin’s sake! Rolling his eyes, he snapped, “My white peacocks. The ones that I’ve been breeding at the Manor for the last three decades.  _ Surely  _ you know of them?”

The wizard nodded again and smiled. “Yes, of course. I’m afraid I’ve never seen them myself except in pictures, but they’re known for being rare and beautiful.”

“Well,  _ someone  _ has been stealing them! And I want you to find out who!”

“Do you have any idea who the culprit is?”

“Of course not! That’s your job!”

The wizard’s lips twitched. “Actually, if it involves theft and you would like to make a report, it would be the Auror department you’ll need to speak to.” He pointed across the atrium to another counter. This one was manned by only two people, and the lines were simply atrocious.

Lucius gaped at the man. “Surely you don’t expect me to go all the way over there and join  _ another  _ line! I waited here for an age!”

“Well, I’m very sorry, sir, but the general inquiries counter is for general inquiries only. Matters such as yours require the assistance of a specific department. In this case, the Aurors will be best placed to help you with your complaint.”

“I—how dare!—I want to speak to your manager!”

“Of course, sir. Please wait here just a moment.” The wizard moved away from the counter and disappeared behind a door, returning shortly with an older woman. He led her back to the counter and gestured to Lucius. “This gentleman wishes to speak with you, Mrs Watkins.”

Mrs Watkins smiled indulgently and turned to face Lucius. “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

“What—what is the  _ problem?”  _ Lucius spluttered. “This—this  _ drone  _ refuses to assist me!”

“I see. Perhaps you could give me your version of events.”

Did no one tell anybody  _ anything  _ around here? With a long-suffering sigh, he once again recounted his complaint, finishing with the fact he just wanted to find out who was stealing his peacocks and have them stopped. “And what are you going to do about it?” he asked, giving her what he thought of as his ‘don’t fuck with me’ expression.

“I’m very sorry, sir, but this is not a general inquiry. This is a criminal complaint. I’m afraid we aren’t equipped to assist you with this matter, and you’ll need to direct your report to the Auror department. Their counter is just over there.” She pointed across the room once again. Lucius was horrified to see the lines had grown. There was no way he would be going over there and waiting again! He decided the entire Ministry was bloody useless.

“I am going to be writing a very strongly worded letter to the  _ Daily Prophet!”  _ he declared, giving his hair an extra-large flick. Turning on his heel, he flounced away from the desk, making sure to put extra bounce into it.

“Bloody Karens,” Mrs Watkins whispered to her colleague. 

* * *

After the fiasco at the Ministry, Lucius needed another glass of wine and something to eat. He headed to a small upscale restaurant at the far end of Diagon Alley and swept through the entrance, where he waited impatiently to be seated.

“White wine. Chardonnay, 1992,” he snapped at the server once he had been shown to a table.

“Right away, sir.” The server bowed, handed Lucius a menu, and departed. He returned several minutes later with the wine and asked, “Are you ready to order?”

“The fish. Baked, not fried. Roasted potatoes, not mash. Sauce on the side only,” he said, snapping the munu closed and thrusting it at the server without even looking at him. 

“Very good, sir.” 

Lucius sat, sipping his wine. It was not a very good vintage and the fool at the bar had probably gotten his order wrong, but it was better than nothing. He waited for an age and still his food did not arrive. Pulling out his pocket watch, he frowned in annoyance. It had been  _ ten minutes!  _ How long did it take to cook a piece of fish? Those incompetent fools in the kitchen had better—

“Here is your meal, sir.” The server laid the plate before Lucius with a flourish. “I do hope you enjoy—”

“What is this?” Lucius demanded, gesturing at the plate. 

The server looked at him in mild confusion. “It’s fish, sir.”

“But—there are  _ lemon wedges  _ on the plate!”

“Indeed there are, sir. Our fish dishes generally do come with lemon wedges.”

“But I didn’t  _ want  _ lemon wedges!”

“And you are not obliged to make use of them, sir. Simply leave them on the side of the plate.”

Lucius huffed. “Well, you should be asking your customers if they want lemon wedges, instead of surprising them like this!”

“The item description on the menu does mention that lemon wedges accompany the dish. If you do not wish for that to be the case, please make sure to inform us at the time you place your order.”

“But I  _ did  _ say ‘no lemon wedges’!”

The server frowned slightly. “Begging your pardon, but I’m quite sure you didn’t.” He withdrew a notebook from his apron and consulted it. “You asked for the fish, baked, not fried, roast potatoes instead of mash, with sauce on the side only. There was no mention of lemon wedges.”

Lucius felt his chest beginning to tighten up in his agitation. “How  _ dare  _ you? Are you calling me a  _ liar?  _ This is an INSULT! I—” his voice was creeping higher and higher as the feeling of being maligned and mocked threatened to overwhelm him.

“Excuse me, sir. Is there a problem?” A manager has appeared silently at his elbow, speaking quietly but with authority. 

With a smirk, Lucius turned to the newcomer.  _ Now  _ this vile young server would get what was coming to him! “Yes. Yes, there  _ is  _ a problem. I ordered the fish, and it came with lemon wedges. I don’t  _ want  _ lemon wedges! And your dreadfully rude employee called me a  _ liar!” _

The manager turned to the server. “Did you call the customer a liar, Jones?”

The younger man drew himself up. “I most certainly did  _ not,  _ Mr Simmons! The customer did not request the omission of lemon wedges when placing his order, and so I was unaware he didn’t want them.”

“Did you remember to specifically request no lemon wedges when placing your order, sir?” the manager asked Lucius. 

“Of course I did! How dare you ask such an impertinent question!”

The manager took the order book from the server and examined it. “Well, I don’t see any notes about it on this order pad, sir. Jones is very diligent when noting customers’ requests. He has never missed a thing.”

“There’s always a first time!” Lucius declared, flipping his hair haughtily over his shoulder.

“Sir, please refrain from doing that in the restaurant. You might get hair in someone else’s food. It’s a hygiene issue.”

This was too much! The awful, odious man’s disrespect was mind boggling and he wasn’t going to sit here and tolerate it a moment longer. “Shove your hygiene issues up your arse!” Lucius screeched, jumping up from his seat. He threw his napkin as forcefully as he could over the offensive meal and shoved the manager and his equally horrible acolyte out of the way, making for the exit.

Simmons and Jones watched him flounce out of the restaurant. 

“Shouldn’t we make him pay for his drink and meal, Mr Simmons?” 

“No, I think we’ll just let it go and bill the Manor later.”

“Fucking Karens.”

Simmons turned to Jones and gave him a stern look. “You know I don’t approve of such language in the main part of the restaurant,” he chided. 

“Sorry, sir.”

“Just don’t let me hear you use that word again. And you’re right.”

Jones looked confused. “Pardon, Mr Simmons?”

“He is a bleeping Karen, isn’t he?” Simmons gave Jones a wink and sauntered back to his office.

* * *

Lucius stormed up the street to the Leaky Cauldron. He wouldn’t normally frequent such a  _ common  _ establishment, but it was the closest place after the restaurant that served alcohol and he desperately needed something to soothe his jangled and frazzled nerves.

He pushed open the door and flounced his way over to the bar, then flopped dramatically onto a stool. He was so distraught, he almost forgot to flick his hair, but then remembered it at the last minute and followed up with the back of his hand pressed delicately to his forehead.

“Why Mr Malfoy! You look positively overcome! What can I get you?”

The Abbot girl, the one whose mother had been killed by Death Eaters during the second Wizarding War, had appeared before him, wiping her hands on a towel.

“...Cinnamon whiskey…” he croaked. “A double—no, a triple. Oh, my poor nerves.”

“Those other shopkeepers been giving you a hard time today?” the girl asked sympathetically as she placed his drink before him. “Or is it the public this time? Have they been jeering at you again?”

“It’s been an awful, awful day,” he groaned, lifting the glass to his lips with both hands and taking a generous swig. The spicy concoction set fire blooming in his belly, instantly lifting his flagging spirits.

“Care to talk about it?”

Finally, a listening ear! Lucius finished his drink and pushed the glass towards the Abbott girl, nodding for her to refill it. Once a fresh helping was in front of him, he took a deep breath and a swig and began his tale of woe.

“...And I didn’t even get to finish my lunch! I was turfed out. It was  _ so humiliating,  _ not to mention undignified!” he lamented, finally finishing his story. He had been talking for twenty minutes, painting every detail carefully, the way an artist paints minute details on canvas with a very fine brush.

“Terrible, just terrible. Would you like something to eat from the menu? I’m afraid it’s nothing as fancy as what you’d ordered previously, but it does the trick.”

Lucius pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and squinted at it. The offer was tempting, but… “No, no. I have a hair appointment in 20 minutes.” He picked up the glass, drained the last few drops, and slid off his stool, stumbling slightly. Reaching into his Wizard’s Sleeve, he withdrew his coin purse and dropped a few galleons on the counter. “Keep the change, miss.”

“Thank you, Mr Malfoy. I hope your day gets better.” 

Hannah and the other patrons watched as Lucius left the pub. “Bloody Karens,” remarked one customer to another.

* * *

The cool air outside helped to clear his head. Lucius flounced along the street, headed towards the hair stylist’s shop. His fringe was getting just slightly too long, and losing its sharp edge. He loved his fringe. It was just so  _ stylish,  _ and gave him an air of sophistication. Coupled with his impeccable fashion sense, he was certain that he was an imposing and impressive sight; and that everyone wished they were as put together as he was.

Arriving at the stylist’s, he swept through the door and almost tripped over the jamb. His annoyance spiked once again. It was a health and safety hazard…! How high was that lip…? He turned to glare at the offending obstacle and furrowed his brows in confusion at the perfectly flat entryway. There was no jamb, not even a loose tile. What, then, did he stumble over?

Lucius turned back towards the interior of the shop in time to see one of the other patrons sniggering at him while pretending to read a magazine. “What are you looking at?” he snapped. “Your hair colour is hideous, you’ve nothing to smirk about.”

The patron gave him a dirty look and rattled their reading material crossly, disappearing behind it.

“That’s what I thought,” he sniffed. 

“Welcome, Mr Malfoy. You’re here for your twelve-thirty?”

“I am. The usual, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Please come this way.” The stylist helped him into one of the chairs and busied herself throwing a cape over him, adjusting the height of the seat, and organising her implements. 

Finally, she began, misting, snipping and combing his long, shiny locks. After a period of time, she stood back so Lucius could see himself in the mirror. “All done, Mr Malfoy.”

Lucius stared into the mirror. Something wasn’t right with his hair. It was—he let out a high pitched shriek. 

“My  _ hair!  _ What have you done, you stupid woman? It’s  _ ruined!”  _

The stylist went pale and took a step back. “It—no, it’s exactly as you asked, Mr Malfoy! A trim and having the fringe sharpened!”

“It’s  _ not  _ what I asked for! I said the fringe should be kept  _ strictly  _ to a forty-three degree angle!”

“But—it  _ is  _ forty-three degrees. I measured it exactly!”

“That is  _ not  _ forty-three degrees!” Lucius screamed, pointing at his reflection in the mirror. “It’s forty- _ five  _ degrees!”

“Come on, mate. It looks perfectly fine. And even if it  _ was  _ out, it would be only by two degrees. No one would notice,” came a voice behind him. 

Lucius whirled around, ready to confront the busybody who dared to interrupt, and came face to face with the Longbottom boy.

“No one asked you!” he screeched. “What would you know about style, you stupid boy?”

“Not much, admittedly. I never cared much for dressing up like some sort of dandy wizard. It’s not very practical when you’re in Herbology, you see.” The bumbling younger wizard shrugged nonchalantly and offered a lopsided grin. “Don’t fret. It’ll grow back. You can even magic it back, if you want.”

Lucius stared at the boy, quite unable to come up with a reply. Of  _ course  _ he could just magic it back, but that wasn’t the  _ point,  _ was it?

“Mr Malfoy, I’m  _ very  _ sorry,” the stylist piped up. She looked like she expected him to hex her at any moment, and it mollified him somewhat. At least  _ someone  _ had the brains to be afraid of him! “There will be no change for today’s appointment.”

“You’re Gods-damned right there won’t be!” he exclaimed. Whipping off the cape that was still around his neck, Lucius dropped it on the floor and vigorously brushed off his clothing. Then he flicked his newly trimmed hair in a wide arc, gathered his robes about him and flounced out the door with a  _ hmph  _ and his nose in the air. He had one more stop to make, and they better listen to him.

“Bit of a Karen, isn’t he?” Neville said to the harried stylist.

* * *

Apparating to Hogsmeade, Lucius began the trek up to the castle, frowning petulantly at the fact he no longer had direct access to the grounds. Back when he’d been on the Board of Governors and Snape was alive, he’d had the privilege of being able to use the man’s private Floo, and would come and go as he pleased. 

But after the unfortunate business with the Weasley chit and the Dark Lord’s diary - which had turned out to be a Horcrux, though of course Lucius had been none the wiser - he’d lost both his place on the Board and his free reign over the castle. That odious man Dumbledore had forbidden it, and Snape had been too much of a slimy brown noser to argue.

By the time he reached the gates, he was sweaty and his newly styled hair was in complete disarray. He was viciously glad he hadn’t paid for that butchered cut, given his hair would be in even worse a state now than what it had been after that buffoon of a stylist had hacked at it.

Reaching out, he touched the stylish wrought iron to signal his arrival. Moments later one of the castle’s elves popped into view. Its bulbous eyes widened in shock to see him standing there. “M—Mister Malfoy,” it stammered. “How is I being able to assists you today?”

“I want to see McGonagall,” he demanded imperiously. “It’s of the utmost urgency. Fetch her right away.”

The elf nodded, its ears flopping back and forth, and disappeared with a  _ pop.  _

Lucius pulled out his compact mirror again to check his appearance.  _ Sweet Salazar, he looked like an absolute fright.  _ He took his wand from its holster and cast a few quick beautification charms over himself, thankful that the Ministry had eventually let him have it back once his house arrest was over. He didn’t know how he would have coped had he been unable to use magic for everyday things. Why, he would have to do things the  _ Muggle  _ way. The very thought made him shudder.

Finally satisfied with his presentation, Lucius checked the time and frowned. He had been waiting an awfully long time. What in Merlin’s name could the headmistress be doing that was a more pressing matter than his visit?

After another agonising ten minutes, McGonagall finally appeared in the distance. She was certainly in no hurry, judging by how casually she strolled along the road that led to the gate. He felt the mad urge to jump up and down like a child impatient for a sweet, but that, of course, was terribly undignified. Instead, he settled for fixing her with one of his best glares as she grew closer.

“Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy,” she said, once she reached the other side of the gate. “I don't recall us having an appointment.”

Lucius gave his hair an extra-exuberant flick to indicate the depth of his annoyance at being kept waiting, and huffed crossly. “We didn’t. I didn’t think I needed one.”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “Mr Malfoy, you know perfectly well that anyone wishing to see me must schedule an appointment ahead of time,” she said sternly. “I have a school to run, and don’t have the time to go running off to consult with unannounced visitors every five minutes. It is  _ quite  _ the imposition.”

“An  _ imposition? Me?  _ May I remind you, woman, I am Lucius Malfoy!”

“I know who you are, you foolish man,” she snorted. “It certainly doesn’t entitle you to special treatment. Albus may have indulged your frightful lack of manners, but I will not.”

_ Lack of manners?  _ The  _ cheek  _ of the woman! Especially after she had made him wait out here in the hot sun for so long! He could do little more than gape at her in outrage.

“Close your mouth, Mr Malfoy, before you begin catching flies. Now, what is it you want?”

He shut his mouth with a snap and blinked at McGonagall. Why  _ had  _ he come? He was so distraught at being made to wait and then accused of being ill-mannered that he had momentarily forgotten the purpose of his visit.

“Well?” she prompted, staring at him with thinly disguised impatience. 

Oh! - now he remembered. Lucius drew himself up imperiously and gave his hair another flick. “It’s Scorpius. I hear he wanted to bring a snake to school as his pet, but was told he could not.”

“Yes, that is correct. You know the rule about pets at school, and so does Scorpius. Students may bring an owl, a cat, a ferret, rat, or a toad.”

“But he wants to bring a snake!”

“He’ll just need to choose another option. But why are you here, challenging the pets policy? You are not the boy’s father. Does Draco know you’re here?”

“I’m the boy’s  _ grandfather!  _ I have a right to have a say in his education!” Lucius deliberately avoided the question, given the answer was no. For reasons he could not fathom, his wayward son was frightfully relaxed about Scorpius’ education and had no wish to be on the Board of Governors.

“No you do  _ not,  _ Mr Malfoy! The only person who has a say in his education is his father. And may I remind you, you are no longer on the Board and therefore have no authority over this school, or anyone in it!” McGonagall’s eyes were blazing, and her tone had become positively icy.

“How  _ dare  _ you talk to me in such a way! I may not be on the Board any longer, but I can still make a complaint!” Lucius spun away from the gate and flounced back down the lane towards Hogsmeade, muttering to himself.

“Fucking Karen,” McGongall muttered, before heading back towards the castle.

* * *

Lucius decided to go home. He simply couldn’t bear the thought of any further upsets today. He would open a bottle of wine, and have a good whine. Narcissa would listen to him. She would understand.

He Apparated into the main foyer then headed to his study, thinking only of the rest of that Chablis. When he opened the door to the mini fridge, however, the bottle was gone! Lucius slammed the door shut and screeched, “Peaky!”

A house elf appeared. “Master Lucius screams for Peaky?”

“The wine is  _ gone! _ There was nearly a full bottle of Chablis here this morning!”

“Oh, yes. Mistress Narcissa was having a visitor. Her sister, Miss Andromeda. She discovered the wine and decided it would do, since it was already opened.”

“Well, go and fetch me another from the cellar! And be quick about it!” 

“Yes, Master.” 

Peaky disappeared and Lucius busied himself with removing his robes and loosening his collar while he waited. A few minutes later the elf returned, looking downcast.

“I is very sorry, Master Lucius, but it seems that was the last bottle,” she said. “There is being a case of Pinot Blanc if yous would—”

“But I wanted  _ Chablis!”  _ Lucius wailed, stamping his foot. “I’m going to be complaining about this!”

Peaky gave him a funny look. “And to whos will you be complaining, Master Lucius?”

“To your manager, of course! Where are they?”

“Master Lucius—” Peaky watched him warily. “—You is my manager. Is you planning to make a complaint to yourselfs?”

“Insolent creature! Do not mock me!” He felt alarmingly close to tears.  _ Why  _ did everyone have to be so  _ vexing  _ today?

“Whatever is all the fuss?” Narcissa poked her head around the door.

“You drank my bottle of Chablis, Narcissa!” he pouted, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m sorry, dearest. Just send the elves to get another from the—”

“—there  _ are  _ no others! That was the last one!”

“Oh.” Narcissa gave him a slightly exasperated look. “Then why not just have one of the other labels? It’s not like we don't have any others to choose from.”

“But I  _ wanted—”  _

“Father!” 

Oh, what was it  _ now?  _ Did no one appreciate that he was suffering a moment of crisis?

Draco stepped into the study, his expression thunderous. The look dropped from his face momentarily as he turned to Narcissa. “Hello, Mother. I hope you’re well.”

Turning back to Lucius, he said, “I just received an owl from McGonagall. She says you’ve been up at the school again, meddling.”

“Lucius! We’ve discussed this!” Narcissa admonished him sternly. “You need to stop haranguing the professors and let Draco deal with any matters relating to our grandson’s education.”

“But he wanted a  _ snake!”  _

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am aware of that,” he said between clenched teeth. “But I have already discussed and resolved the matter with him. He accepts the rules and has decided to stick with his owl.”

“I would have ensured you were able to have any pet you wanted,” Lucius said. “Do you not care anything for your son at all?”

Draco’s face turned red with anger. “It is  _ precisely  _ because I care about my son that I am teaching him to respect rules and not to expect special treatment just because of who he is! And it’s even more important that I teach him this, with Tori gone! He needs structure, consistency and clear boundaries! I’ll not poison his mind and his childhood like you poisoned mine!” he shouted. 

“Well I  _ never!”  _ Lucius exclaimed. He could not believe his son would speak to him in such a way. It was almost too much for him to bear. Staggering to his desk, he collapsed into his chair. “Peaky… get me something to drink. Anything,” he wailed.

“You’re pathetic. A disgrace to the name of Malfoy.”

Lucius rotated his chair to face the portrait of his father. “No one asked you,” he said snidely.

“It’s embarrassing to watch you carry on like that, sighing and squalling and throwing tantrums like a child,” Abraxas continued, not put off in the least by Lucius’s response. “You’re—what’s that Muggle word I’ve heard Scorpius use? The one that has something to do with a Regent?”

“I believe you’re thinking of ‘drama queen’, Grandfather.”

“—Yes, that’s it. Lucius, you’re a drama queen.”

At that moment, Peaky returned with a bottle of wine, and Lucius snatched it out of her hands, magically removing the cork and filling his summoned glass to the brim. He gulped at the liquid, spilling some down his front and not caring in the slightest at this point.

“There’s another Muggle word that Scorpius has been using recently. It’s very new.”

“What is it, Dragon?” Narcissa asked.

“Karen.”

“But—that’s a woman’s name. What’s so special about that?” Abraxas asked.

“It's a pejorative term for an unreasonably demanding or entitled woman. One that carries on frequently and makes a fuss about everything.”

“It fits him perfectly!” Abraxas exclaimed, roaring with laughter. “Please excuse me. I need to go tell the other portraits.” Still guffawing, he disappeared from the frame.

Realisation was dawning on Lucius. He thought he must have been imagining hearing the word ‘Karen’ throughout the day, but it now seemed he hadn’t, after all. People had been insulting him behind his back all day, disparaging him! He’d never be able to show his face in polite society again!

“You’re all against me!” he sobbed, bringing the glass to his lips once again and finishing the contents. Immediately, he topped it up again. His head was starting to spin, but he didn’t care.

“We  _ aren’t,  _ dearest. But you must stop being so intolerable,” Narcissa soothed.

“I’m _not_ intolerable! Everyone else is!”

“Right, I’m off. I can’t deal with this. One moody teenager is bad enough without having a moody parent to contend with as well.” Draco kissed Narcissa on the cheek and gave Lucius a disgusted look. “Sober up and sort yourself out, old man. You need to pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” He turned on his heel and was gone.

Narcissa shook her head, walked over to him and snatched the bottle out of his hands. “No more for you,” she said. “You’ll take a sobering potion, clean yourself up and then come and have dinner.”

“But—” 

_ “Now,  _ Lucius. I mean it!”

Her frightening expression stopped him from arguing further. “Yes, my sweet.”

She marched out of the room, leaving him alone to contemplate the terrible day he’d had and lament how put upon he was. Everyone treated him so  _ unfairly!  _ And  _ he  _ got blamed for it! Finally, he stood, swaying lightly, and took the sobering potion Peaky was holding out to him.

When the buzz from the alcohol had cleared and he felt more alert, Lucius straightened his clothing, cast a cleaning charm to rid himself of the wine stains, and gave his hair a flick before flouncing out of the room to join his wife for the evening meal. Today had been torturous and traumatic, but there was always tomorrow.

  
  



End file.
